A Conversation of Kings
by AWDAJ
Summary: Cawl meets with Guilliman aboard the Macragges Honor decades into the ruthless campaigns of the Indomitus Crusade to make a request that could change the future of the Adeptus Astartes. I've taking up creative writing as a hobby and this is my first publication.


A Conversation of Kings

Guilliman placed his cup onto the table next to where he was sat. He considered slamming it down to vent his frustration but instead rallied what little was left of his patience and started massaging the frown he had formed on his forehead. He was tired. The constant campaigns of the Indomitus Crusade had occupied his full attention and it had been some time since he rested.

'Why do you insist on provoking me Cawl?'

He moved his hand down pinching the skin between his eyes to relieve the last of the tension he felt before turning to the Arch-Magos.

'We have been over this, more than once. The gene seed of my brothers who turned from the Emperor, my father, and tore the Imperium apart are not to be implanted into new neophytes.'

Guilliman picked up the cup and rested it in both hands. He looked at it inquisitively as if to determine whether he wanted to drink it or not, but his thoughts were on the topic at hand.

'I may have slept these last millennia when you laboured, stretching your memory thousands of years where for me it is merely hundreds but even you must recall the devastation wrought by those Legions. The world's Virus bombed by the Death Guard, the people butchered by the World Eaters. You would have them returned to create Havoc throughout the Imperium once more?'

Cawl stood in the centre of the room. His full attention was fixed on Guilliman and although the Primarch sat he still towered over the vastly augmented Arch-Magos of Mars. He listened intently to Guillimans criticisms but neither this nor his physical dominance seemed to affect Cawl. His mostly Humanless features made it difficult to read what emotion he was experiencing in that or any moment, assuming he could still feel emotion. After 10,000 years of augmentation it would be difficult to prove there was anything Human left. Though his pale stretched skin across half his face and only Human eye made efforts to dissuade that concern.

'I do recall those events, distant that they are.' Cawl said coldly.

'I also understand your emotional response to the reintroduction of the gene seed whose forebears sought and almost succeeded in the dismantling of the Imperium, however after careful analysis I believe your hypothesis incorrect. The gene seed of those 9 legions are no more susceptible to corruption than the gene seed of your descendants. The 10,000 years since your incarceration into stasis have proven this correct. It was leadership that lead to their betrayal, but not all followed their Primarchs against the Emperor, such as those on Isstvan 3.'

Again Guilliman placed the cup on the table. With more care this time for he could feel his anger rise in anticipation to remind Cawl of his place. He owes much to the accomplishments of the Arch-Magos, the whole Imperium does. Those accomplishments and Cawls status as leader and of the Mechanicum, a position granted by Guilliman himself as Lord Commander of the Imperium, grants him the privilege of speaking his mind and even to argue his point if he feels the need to disagree with Guilliman. That privilege has a limit.

'You have earned a great deal of rope.' Guilliman said as he stood towering even higher as he looked down sternly upon Cawl.

'Careful you do not noose it around your neck.'

Before he could continue Cawl interjected.

'The reinstatement of the traitor legion gene seed is not what I was proposing, Lord Commander.'

Using his title in this manor was unusual for the Arch-Magos and it was clearly intended to ease tensions. Normally this would suggest that whomever was addressing the Primarch had recognised they had gone to far and wished to return to his favour by showing respect. In Cawls case Guilliman knew he wished simply to move on and focus on the topic at hand. He relented and let go of his anger, for now.

'I don't understand.' Guilliman said as he moved to return to his chair.

'You told me you wanted to introduce more gene seed lines from the other Primarchs into the Primaris neophytes. If not from the traitor legions then where else.'

'From the other two lines' Cawl said calmly.

This made Guilliman pause for a moment. The realisation of what Cawl what proposing hit the Primarch like a hammer. It was beyond consideration and in his exhausted state a rare experience came over the Primarch. Shock and confusion at how this was even possible, dread that Cawl was about to tell him it was. These thoughts came and went in an instant, but the dread lingered.

He sat down slowly and coldly looked at Cawl

'No. It's not possible.'

'It is,' Cawl replied.

'With these gene seed lines I calculate we will increase the Astartes of the unnumbered sons of the crusade by 18%.'

'Those lines were purged, and they were purged for a reason' stated Guilliman.

'The Legions were "purged" as you say but the gene seed that had not yet been processed through implantation survived and was stored in stasis on Mars.'

'Further the purging of the II and XI legions took place long before the events of the great heresy for reasons that exclude treason or corruption. Therefore the concern of susceptibility to the influence of Chaos is minimal and not a valid arguement. Your objections to the use of the gene lines of the traitor legions cannot be applied.'

Guilliman was silent. His irritation returned to replace his confusion. The Primarch of the Ultramarines had always prided himself on being scientifically and logically minded, more so than his brother Primarchs. Until someone used science and logic to reinforce their argument on a topic for which he was strongly against to the point where even he had to give it merit. It annoyed him.

He lowered his head and brought up his hand to address another frown forming when a sharp pain caused it to clench instead. The pain was from the scar in his neck. Although healed during his resurrection from stasis the pain had never truly subsided. Enduring it wasn't difficult for Guilliman, there are times when the Primarch had forgotten it was even there and it would catch him off guard to remind him.

Cawl said nothing. He stood motionless, the noise of the pistons and gears of the micro motions made by the slight movements of his augmentations filling the silence as he waited for Guillimans discomfort to subside.

The pain passed and gave way to a euphoric sense of release from discomfort which brought with it renewed focus and clarity. In that moment Guilliman closed his eyes and thought of the brothers he could not acknowledge or mention, even to the other Primarchs. He thought of their deeds and the deeds of their legions, the battles they had fought together, victories they shared and finally the events which laid those two legions low and the part he played.

Grabbing the cup next to him Guilliman opened his eyes and sternly looked at cawl.

'Do it.'

He said with conviction and drank from the cup


End file.
